Chapter 3 - Jane

Filing out of the front doors of the police station, we turned left towards the parked SUV. We wound our way through and around the stainless steel poles sticking out of the ground in front of the entrance of the station. Up ahead and on the left was a monument on the corner of Colcord and Shartel. Three thick-banded stainless steel rings spaced a few feet apart created an arch, meeting at a central point and framing three rectangle marble plaques underneath. Each were about the thickness of a tombstone. The central one was perhaps 8 feet tall escorted by the two others, about half its size on either side. The arch had the words Honor, Courage, Integrity, Sacrifice, Service, and Respect written—one on each half of the three arches.

I hooked my right elbow into Lionel’s left and leaned into his shoulder while gently pulling the suitcase out of his hand. He groaned and stumbled a half step. He brought his hand to his head in pain as Jackson caught him up on his right. Together, we just stood there a second as dad took a series of deep, calming breaths.

“Alright, alright. I’m good now, Jane. Let’s just get out of here. We’ve got a lot to do.” He offered a shaky smile good naturedly as we began to walk again. As we passed the monument he paused, kissing me on the head, and slipping his arm out of mine. He walked to the central plaque. Another wave of pain seemed to rack him as he put his hand to his head again. His knees seemed to buckle. He turned it into a kneeling position, his head bent toward the bottom name carved in the marble: David Stone, 2013.

“I think he needs to see his old friend again.” Jackson said quietly, coming up to stand next to me. “He’s got to be thinking that none of this would have happened if he’d still been around.”

“He’d probably be right, if all the story’s are true. From what I remember of him he was a man to be reckoned with.” I said as I slowly approached dad and put a hand on his shoulder, leaning into him gently.

“Saved each other’s lives in the war more times than we could really count,” He chuckled in remembrance. His voice had slipped into a more familiar cadence. The war. I’d started noticing that all the veteran’s I’d met treated the wars they were in the same way. It was always the war, and there was only one going on in 2003. “We even tried to keep track. Always trying to one-up the other, but it was useless when every day we should have gone home feet first. He made me laugh so hard that time I got Forrest Gump’s ‘million-dollar wound’.” He barked a laugh. “Kept coming around triage telling everyone who’d listen how the bullet had ‘jumped up and bit me’ in that voice. Even brought me ice cream in a cone one time. Right there in the desert. Never did find out where he got it from. Started calling me Lieutenant Dan after that. Refused to listen to me when I pointed out he was mixing up the characters.” He took a deep, slow breath, reached out a hand to touch the name engraved there, and groaned as he climbed to his feet. “He was a good friend. The best. His boy reminds me so much of him.” He put an arm around me and Jackson who had come up on his other side as we turned and headed over to the parking area on the other side of Shartel where the Explorer was parked.

As we came up to the car, Jackson must have slid a hand into dad’s suit pocket. He clicked the keyless entry and went around to the driver side door. Dad raised an eyebrow.

“What do you think your doing, boy? This isn’t a taxi service.” His eyebrows drew down.

“You aren’t in any condition to drive and we both know it. I’ve had my permit for two months and did that advanced driver safety training mom wanted me and Jane to do.” His voice softened a bit. “It’ll be fine dad, just sit back and relax and we’ll be home in a bit.”

Dad mumbled something, but climbed into the passenger side as I got into the back behind the driver’s seat. Jackson started the car and put his seatbelt on with a meaningful look to the both of us. We put our belts on. He checked over his left shoulder, all three mirrors, and his right shoulder as if moving down a list and pulled smoothly onto Shartel. Despite just getting his permit, he really was a great driver. I’d never tell him that of course, but he learned from mom. I, on the other hand, learned from dad. Dad had closed his eyes and leaned back into the headrest, crows feet appearing as he winced occasionally. I leaned forward from the back and draped a hand over his shoulder. He reached over and patted my hand with a weak smile.

“You were pretty hard on the detective back there. He seemed like a pretty good dude who really wanted to help.” Jackson said into the silence while merging onto the highway.

“Good intentions are like anus’s, son. Everyone’s got one but that don’t mean anything good comes from them. He’s following the rule book. Chapter and verse. No weapon in the interrogation room. Gain the person’s confidence. If you make them laugh, you make them talk. He knows as well as I do that nine out of ten crimes, the victim knows the Perp. Chapter. And. Verse.” Dad sighed, his eyes still closed. “There’s a good reason my old friend isn’t having coffee with me this morning. Instead his name is carved into that pretty wall.”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Well, he’s certainly going to be looking into us a lot closer. He knows that what went on back there wasn’t normal and he’s going to want to know why.”

“Maybe you’re right, son. I could have handled that differently. I just couldn’t stand the bureaucratic red tape any more. The manipulation and power games while your mother is out there facing God knows what.” He pinched the bridge his nose with his right hand. “Probably a line in the manual that covers letting us sit out there to soften us up before coming in as a savior to rescue us. Just brings back too many bad memories. I wanted to shut it down but couldn’t play the game until one of them showed up at the table. Can’t play poker with a wall.”

“Well” I said with a smile. “I for one thought it felt really good to watch you crap in his cornflakes.” Dad smiled at that. “He owed us that much for making us wait like they could care less what we had to say. It was like they just wanted to get us out of the house…” We all looked at each other, our eyes widening. “You don’t think…”

“They’d need a warrant.” Jackson tried to rationalize. He sped up to just under 7 miles per hour over the speed limit. Gerald had said that was the lucky number that cop’s would use to pull you over.

Dad scoffed. “Maybe once upon a time, now they just wave that Patriot Act like a get out of jail free card,” he pulled out his phone and hit speed dial 4. “Gerald. You hear what happened?” He paused, listening. “Figured you would. They kept us tied down at the station and we’re starting to get the feeling that they did it on purpose. Something big is happening, Stone.” He paused to listen a moment. “What’s the word?” Whatever Gerald said it didn’t seem to be good. “Hold on, I’ll switch you to speaker.” He hit a button on the dash and then his phone. A deep commanding voice came over the SUV speakers.

“Code is Blue Falcon until further notice.” It was military slang most think originated in the 82nd Airborne Infantry and literally meant when someone screwed over their buddy. Hence the initials. What it meant for us, I would rather not have considered. Until we figured out what was going on we were to activate our response plan and treat everyone who was not “inside” as if they were potentially one of the bad guys. Gerald must have gotten some information that there was something going on internal. Whether that meant with the Police, Prometheus, or in our circles, we didn’t know, but we’d work the plan. “I’m already headed to the house. I’ll see you in ten.” Then he hung up. He never liked unsecured lines, it was just one of his things.

“This steaming pile just keeps getting deeper and deeper.” Dad threw the phone into the cup holder in the center console.

“What’s all this got to do with mom?” I asked, squeezing dad’s shoulder.

“I don’t know sweet-heart. I don’t know what that woman’s got herself into, but I think—”

We never got to hear what dad thought.

Glass shattered. The world jolted and spun. I braced my hand on the ceiling and front seat as my head hit the window, shattering it. The side airbag deployed like a second punch to the head. My vision shrank to a pinpoint.

Time flickered as I looked out the wind shield to see a black Ford Econoline reversing a few feet before coming to a stop. I could distinctly make out the reinforced grill guard bolted to the front of the van.

My seat belt dug into my shoulders and chest. Gravity was all wrong. Sounds came erratically and were washed out by a high-pitched keening. It reminded me of a story Gerald once told about being mortared once. He called it ‘losing the show’. He had good stories. He had good everything. I found myself fascinated by an intricate series of red trails of liquid as they ran up my arms, dripped from my finger tips, and fell into the sky to patter against the ceiling.

Footsteps approached.

I saw two men dressed in black fatigues and masks pulling an older man out of the passenger seat window. He seemed familiar. The man in the passenger seat, I mean. I couldn’t recognize the paramedics with those weird masks on. At least he’s getting help. I looked back down at my arms. I could probably use some help.

Tires screeched to a halt nearby. A recognizable voice was shouting. All I could make out was: “Get down on the ground, now!”

A shotgun blast broke through the haze and one of the men staggered. Who’s shooting the paramedics, I wondered.

They dropped my dad.

Realization jolted my awareness.

“Dad!” I tried to shout, weakly reaching out to him. It came out as a hoarse groan.

 The second man in fatigues grabbed his downed partner and I saw them climb back into the black van. As it backed up another loud report exploded the spider-webbed windshield. The van peeled out in a swirl of smoke and was gone.

Footsteps approached.

“You gonna’ be okay.” Detective Daniel’s voice rumbled reassuringly next to my ear as he reached over and unhooked my seat belt.

Blackness overtook me as I fell free.